Want Need Take
by TobyMatt
Summary: Slightly AU-ish, Lindsey and Angel reflect on an encounter.
1. Pure And Simple

The pure and simple pleasure of it was intoxicating. The sharp initial contact followed by careful, needful ministrations. It was all so perfect. And it occupied his mind day in and day out.  
  
The first had been by accident, unintentional. Well, as unintentional as it could be. The decision was his to make and he allowed it, marginally.  
  
He just hadn't counted on it being so damn pleasurable.  
  
The basic feral need that arose in him was as intoxicating as any liquor, and definitely better then the cheap knock off brands he had once been addicted to as if his life depended on it.  
  
No, this had been far better and a lot deadlier.  
  
Perhaps it was the ever present feline fear that made it pure bliss. Or just the simple fact that, for a small time, he had been needed. Needed in a way that he hadn't experienced very often.  
  
Or maybe it was the fact that he just really got off on pain.  
  
Or to be more precise, pain that he gave him.  
  
Every time he was knocked up against a wall, or death threats were thrown at him, he couldn't help but get a little hot and bothered.  
  
It was ingrained in his very nature. He couldn't have stopped wanting it anymore then he could've stopped breathing.  
  
The full onslaught of every shove, the sharp painful tightening of a noose around his neck, the sharp crack of shock that came with every punch he gave him. It got to him in every way, every time, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't not crave the next lick of pleasurable pain that he would give him.  
  
It was all so addictive.  
  
Which then brought it all full circle to that hellish urge that was now imbedded deep within him. It hadn't let up and it was always lurking beneath the surface, begging him to get the feeling back. Bring back the twinge of skittishly sidestepping death as inch length fangs sunk into him, claiming and marking his very soul with their mere presence. The feeling of being so completely helpless that it became all he was as the vampire stole from him his life.  
  
Bring back the bittersweet feeling of knowing it would never happen again because that damnable vampire couldn't admit that he loved hurting him. 


	2. Shiver

Shiver.  
  
Cold, depth, dark. Darkness everywhere.  
  
In everything I see, everything I touch. It all eventually turns to ashes.  
  
Shut out the world, close myself off. Been there. Tried that.  
  
Never worked.  
  
Still, the darkness keeps pushing its boundaries and grips me tightly to its breast, never quite relinquishing its hold. I can feel its applause every time I shrug off my mental barriers and allow myself to feel right. Whole. Perfect. True.  
  
I can always sense it laughing behind me as I slip up.  
  
Because I always slip up.  
  
It's not just enough to fear it and loathe it, no; it wants to push me in just the right places. Force me to choose.  
  
I always choose the darkness.  
  
They say I brood too much. I've a right if you ask me.  
  
Because, every time I choose, I condemn them. The ones who try to help me, fix me, need me. I condemn them to a life where they don't ever know who I am. I'm grateful that they care, truly, but I accept my choice, move past it, push it behind me.  
  
Atleast I did until I was called out on it.  
  
Ah, there's the kicker. My tucked away desires and darkness found a way out once, found a way to escape without me realizing it.  
  
It took its time, slowly seeping out from the cracks with each confrontation until it was all that I had left during every confrontation. And now it gnaws at the corner of my mind, slipping in and out with temptation on its heels, begging me to find that lawyer and smash his pretty little head in. Just let myself go one more time, let myself be what I was meant to be. Let myself feel the exquisite pleasure of flesh on flesh, pain and bruises. Pain and bruises that only I am allowed to give him. I can feel that short tether fray every time I draw blood and I can feel it's screaming as, every time, I don't drink. It's all I can do to muffle its call.  
  
Still doesn't stop me from craving it though.  
  
And it's all I can do to not just fuck him six ways from Sunday because I know he craves it as much as I do. Needs it as much as I do. Every time I go back to give him hell, I can feel it. Feel his pulse quickening and his eyes flicker with no small amount of lust and want.  
  
Doesn't hurt that I can smell it, as sweet and intoxicating as it is. I could smell it from a block over, it's that strong. That overpowering. That beautiful.  
  
I always tell myself I'll stop fucking with him. Stop craving the simple want-need of beating him senseless. That I'll just give it up and tell him I'm done with it.  
  
And I thought Spike was the one with the lying complex.  
  
Either way, that damned darkness always comes back and whispers its half growl, half purr voice in my ear. Tells me all the different ways I could torture Lindsey and still keep him alive for months. Tells me how he likes being held by the neck, his windpipe slowing restricting, more then being simply punched or kicked. Tells me I knew this since I first started the game, that slow sweet torturous seduction. And with all the lies and half truths it feeds me, I'm never that surprised when I finally say to hell with it and go back for more.  
  
I always do.  
  
And I know that one day, one day I'll go back for more and I won't stop. I won't want to stop.  
  
And that's the day the darkness will smile. 


End file.
